


leaving the nest

by follypersist



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:46:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29113989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/follypersist/pseuds/follypersist
Summary: An apparent threat on Hector Hu's life has left the wrong amount of clues. Grouse is on a stakeout next door to figure out what's what. Can you find the true culprit?
Comments: 3
Kudos: 1





	leaving the nest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [asterCrash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asterCrash/gifts).



10:58 PM: Hector is seated at a corner table at Benedict's Eggs. Full view by binoculars. Large window on each side. I don't know if it's entirely wise, but on the other hand the most important thing is to not let him out of our sights. Well, the most important thing is to keep him alive, which is probably best arranged by not letting him out of our sights. Those are our orders, at least. Waitress in full bicorn and napoleonic regalia flair approached him, he waved her off. Telescopic microphone check - he asked her to come back in three minutes. Okay. This is under control.

11:00 PM: Man in a platinum turtleneck approaches Hector, sits down opposite the table. I've swapped positions on the roof with Rupert to be able to see his face - that's... that's Millennium Black. Casino owner, head honcho, the Man astride the Colossus. What does Millennium Alexander Black want from Hector Hu? 

Transcript:

HH: Punctual as ever, my good Alexander.

MAB: It's a necessity in doing business.

>> Pleasantries? There's a familiarity there. The waitress approaches, perfectly on time. Good at her job. Or a good internal clock. Or good instincts. Maybe all three. Why is she dressed like Napoleon? isn't the theme at Benedict's supposed to be colonial american? That said, it's not even the weirdest diner on this street, much less Bluff City; that award goes to the building we're on the roof of right now. Who exactly names a diner "The Edward Hopper Experience"? 

HH: I'll have a sweet tea, a tofu scramble, toasted white, some of those waffle fries, and...

MAB: Bloody Mary, hold the boat.

HH: A little on the nose?

MAB: It's the evening. A man needs his refreshment. What about you? A threat on your life and you're having tofu on toast? 

HH: Breakfast, apocryphally, is the most important meal of the day. Breakfast like a king...

MAB: Of course your breakfast would be at 11pm. I’m old enough to remember you doing drive time. But of course, neither of us are strangers to nocturnal employment.

>> They seem convivial. A satin smile masking the faces of two hard men. There's a familiar undercurrent to the whole conversation. What am I missing? Who is the odd man out of this unfamiliar pair?

HH: What, you think Nathaniel Bridges ordered a hit on me?

MAB: Stranger things have happened in this town.

HH: Okay, I'll grant you that, but I don't know that a conflict of artistic interest is enough to fuel a journalistic assassination. He's too happy to impugn our characters, and if something did happen he'd have to switch to paean or... elegy. Maybe an epitaph, if we were lucky. After being unlucky. 

MAB: No bridge for him to troubled waters? But you called me here for a reason. Unless this has to do with what the Lord made on the seventh day.

HH: People so often give you answers – that's what it means to be a businessman, to be the man in charge – but in the same way people give me questions, they want to know what today will hold or tomorrow may bring and so I find myself in their shoes, in their places, bringing you a question. If it’s easier, think of it as the LORD on the first day, shedding light on the situation: was this someone from your department?

MAB: What did they see?

HH: My producer and their assistant only saw red. The color of blood. 

MAB: (makes a tch noise).

>> Rupert wants my attention. Something’s happening across the street... but it’s just trash being set out from one of the back door trapdoors in the diner beneath us. Maybe he's hungry? It’s nice to have back-up on this kind of stake-out, it’s nice to have company, but I don’t really want to be distracted right now. Any word Rupert makes me miss could be the single word that unlocks this whole mystery.

11:12 PM

MAB: I'm not entirely sure. I'd like to be honest with you, Hector. I'd like to think we owe each other that. As good as business has been, there's a new coven in town. They say they're vegetarian - but I only know their leader Quain from way back, and I haven't been through their operations to double check their work. I don't think it's them, but I also don't know it isn't, especially if they've got a fledgling, or an particularly enterprising neonate on their hands. But what about you? Red, the color of blood - are you warded against devils in your little radio sanctuary?

HH: I should be, and yet. They have ways, ways upon ways, ways we are a stranger to even upon the deepest of study and the broadest of our preparations. The holy water was intact, a page was torn out of the good Book, the organic communion wafers have been desecrated, and the circle of salt trespassed like someone walked right through it. That's why I'm thinking whoever it is may be up your way, because the devils I know should know better. And I'd be damned if it's a devil I don't.

MAB: Right. He, she, or they went out of the way to avoid the aquae sanctum, and destroyed the sanctity of the inner chamber... a mix of thoughtfulness and thoughtlessness not uncommon for a fledgling. I just don't think this happens in my city without me hearing about it.

HH: Admittedly, you are hearing about it now.

MAB: Any relevance in the chapter and verse? 

HH: The middle of Proverbs. Chapter twenty-seven.

MAB: I’ll admit I’m at a loss.

HH: Could be… “Faithful are the wounds from a friend, but the kisses of an enemy are deceitful.” 

MAB: You could extrapolate for hours from that particular lectio divina.

HH: “Open rebuke is better than secret love” would tell us not to trust the sortes sanctorum.

MAB: Then there is your favorite pet conspiracy. 

HH: Hm. The thought hadn't escaped me. But I do not want to seem like a proverbial boy crying wolf as though every trouble comes down to the Coast Guard.

>> The Coast Guard? That rings a bell. What is it Waxwing said about them...

WW: You know, I'm glad you beat back the eel king and all, but I wish it wasn't down to just you to do it. If the Coast Guard could actually guard the coast, it wouldn't be your responsibility. Of course we have to step in to deal with the aftermath of any meteor shower, but don't rely on them, Grouse. Goldfinch always said – don't trust the face of a crab. 

GF: That's right, Grouse. You're a hero in your own right, now, and we respect you enough to share the real secrets. I'm going to have to go away, soon, but you keep Waxwing safe for me while I'm gone. You can do that, right? You're a perfect fit on our team - the fearsome threesome on the wings of the night. The American Goldfinch, her Waxwing, and Bluff City's Own Grouse. When I come back, the three of us will be inseparable, I'm sure – if you don't clean up the city by yourself before I return! I kid, of course, but really Grouse, I love you. You're one of us. You belong here, and you fit in naturally. No extra work. No need to be perfect. You're a natural. The hero we need. The hero this city needs! That's why I'm leaving, actually. To give you space to spread your wings. But I'll be back, right as you hit your stride. Before you know it.

>> Okay, maybe that's not exactly how it went down. But if I had started working before Goldfinch left, I'm sure it would've been about like that. Wait, what did I miss at Benedict's?

11:25 PM

HH: And of course you can't go alone. No man is an island, apart from the main. It is necessary and proper to have friends in this town. What, after all, was Jesus without his apostles?

MAB: Or Abel, without Cain.

HH: You have me there. I am my brother's keeper, and my sister's, too, and every sibling in our fair city.

MAB: This one is enough for you?

HH: It has to be. No other place can compare to our home, at least not until we see those pearly gates, you understand. It wouldn't be Bluff City, without that threat that makes it home, and I wouldn't be Me if I left it, in fear or out for some kind of greater adventure. All which, sir, though I most powerfully and potently believe, yet I hold it not honesty to have it thuswise set down.

MAB: If, like a crab, you could walk backwards. Fine. I'll tender the evening, be the keeper of my brother's house, and check on their fledglings. What will you do?

HH: The same thing I do every night. Get on the radio, and tell the blessed truth. Godspeed.

>> Okay, I didn't miss too much in the daydream. Hector's still safe, for the moment, and we know where he's going next. Rupert's antsy to get off this roof, sidling back and forth, and I don't blame him. But what to do about this mystery? 

>>I'd understand it if Hector thought that devils were after him; he's a holy man, and weirder things have happened in Bluff City, as he said. But neither they nor the creatures that walk hidden in the night seem to be the right bright red to fit the description, right? Crossing over a circle of salt like it’s nothing. But who could do this?

>> Wait. The way Rupert moves... like a crab, side-to-side along the roof's edge... Mr. Black had mentioned crabs too, and so had Waxwing. Could Hector Hu's crabmen conspiracy actually be true? A crustacean would be the right color of red, after all, and would fit the descriptors. 

WW: Chanti! You solved the case! From this great maze, you found the center, the very god of the labyrinth! You know, I always knew you had it in you, but this is truly impressive. The Crab Men and the Coast Guard in cahoots to take out the conspiracy theorist holy man who was exposing them? That accounts for motive, means, and the opportunity. Congratulations, Grouse, you're the hero Bluff City needed right now, and the hero I need right now, too.

>> ...I'm sure that's exactly what she'll say.


End file.
